Eulogy of the Dead.
Reading edition
By B. F. Porter, of Alabama.
"Weep not for the dead; neither bemoan him"--Jeremiah.
Oh! weep not for the dead, Whose blood, for freedom shed, Is hallowed evermore! Who on the battle-field Gould die--but never yield! Oh, bemoan them never more-- They live immortal in their gore!
Oh, what is it to die Midst shouts of victory, Our rights and homes defending! Oh! what were fame and life Gained in that basest strife For tyrants' power contending, Our country's bosom rending!
Oh! dead of red Manassah! Oh! dead of Shiloh's fray! Oh! victors of the Richmond field! Dead on your mother's breast, You live in glorious rest; Each on[1] his honored shield, Immortal in each bloody field!
Oh! sons of noble mothers! Oh! youth of maiden lovers! Oh! husbands of chaste wives! Though asleep in beds of gore, You return, oh! never more; Still immortal are your lives! Immortal mothers! lovers! wives!
How blest is he who draws His sword in freedom's cause! Though dead on battle-field, Forever to his tomb Shall youthful heroes come, Their hearts for freedom steeled, And learn to die on battle-field.
As at Thermopylæ, Grecian child of liberty; Swears to despot ne'er to yield-- Here, by our glorious dead, Let's revenge the blood they've shed, Or die on bloody field, By the sons who scorned to yield!
Oh! mothers! lovers! wives! Oh! weep no more--our lives Are our country's evermore! More glorious in your graves, Than if living Lincoln's slaves, Ye will perish never more, Martyred on our fields of gore!
[1] The Grecian mother, on sending her son to battle, pointing to his shield, said--"With it, or on it."